Thank you.

Sun, 19 Mar 2006 21:51:50 GMT

For those of you who always feel it neccesary to condemn others for the way that they feel- calling it a cry for attention, I would suggest that you stop reading this right now. You see, THIS IS a cry for attention--however it isn't the type that you'd usually expect. Yes, this is about expressing my frustration with myself; however it's not ALL about me. It has a great deal to do with you, your mom, sister, cousin, daughter, or friend...it deals with every girl, and nearly EVERYONE living in America.

For those of you that have it in you to understand the frustration and heartache of others, those of you that know an empathetic attitude is a good thing, read on...

This entire post is the result of my trip to a clothing store this afternoon. Yes, a clothing store gave me a reason to sit down and write—it’s funny what causes such things. Anyway, I enter the store with my mother and sister, and I head over to the juniors department to look at jeans; because as you know, a girl can never have enough jeans. I pick up a few pairs and head to the room of fluorescent lights and mirrors—oh, the dread. They might as well call the stupid things ‘depression rooms’, I’d find that a rather fitting title. If you’re not a girl, you probably don’t and can’t understand this.

Some of you already know where this is going…and some of you are probably reading this and thinking “what an idiot”…yeah, whatever…

Yes, I may weigh 130 pounds—a seemingly healthy weight to most. And yes, in my jeans I may not look ridiculously overweight…but as soon as those fluorescent lights hit my legs, I want to SERIOUSLY break down and sob. I become disgusted with myself…absolutely disgusted.

“Oh God…she wants us all to message her back and tell her she’s skinny”.
NO, that’s not what I’m looking for.

I’m looking for the reason WHY I feel this way. WHY have I let myself fall victim to the American ‘Let’s all be anorexic’ propaganda? I wish I knew.

I wish I knew the idiot who decided to market TWIGGY, the model. If I met him/her, chances are I’d wind up my arm and place a nice punch in someone’s face.

For the 2% of you that don’t have any cellulite, spider veins, or ‘flab’, consider yourself the minority. The rest of us (all 98%) have you to look at…we have pictures of you in our magazines, on our commercials, on TV, on the runway, in Hollywood, on Billboards….you’re EVERYWHERE. Everywhere I look, I’m bound to find an advertisement with some anorexic model that looks like a holocaust victim; and for some UNKNOWN reason, my brain sends me some signal that says “You’re supposed to look like that. That’s pretty”.

That’s pretty?!?! Have we all lost our minds?
Emaciated faces, protruding shoulder blades and collar bones, and bird-thin legs are pretty? That’s what I’ve learned growing up in America. I’ve learned that skinny people are better than fat people; they’ll get better jobs, they’ll get more boyfriends…they’ll get more chances to experience life the way everyone should. America has taught me that I’m not good enough because I don’t look like models on T.V.

How ridiculous has our society become?
We have let propaganda destroy our self-esteem.
We have allowed the media to penetrate our minds, and have lost our own sensibility.

Why?
I wish I knew…

Sun, 19 Mar 2006 00:42:58 GMT

I would just like to ask why politics strikes more of a conversation than a personal topic that involves hardships, changes and growth?
Why do people insist on mindlessly arguing about things they can't change?
I am not a submissive person but it's so POINTLESS.
Or for that matter, why do people ramble on about things that happen every day that do not mean anything? I'm so sick of all this talk that has absolutely no meaning.
I hate talk without weight.
If something has nothing to do with you, why put your face in it? You can't change it, you can't stop it. Why can't you just shut up?
I don't mean to sound/be hostile, but I don't understand it. I don't like it. I can't see the point of it and it seems no one can explain or persuade.

I'm sick of thinking about what a conversation really is.
You're expressing your thoughts, and when that river runs dry, you change the topic and repeat. What happens when you run out of things to complain about? What do you talk about when you're completely satisfied? What happens when you have too many thoughts but you can't catch one of them?
This whole sharing ideas thing, courtship, acquaintances is one thing. Bullshit.

I see this whole world so differently.
I can't explain.
[it seems] No one can relate.
I'm frustrated.

And I'm aware that I fit the role for an artist/photographer perfectly. Messed up, depressed, with a whole different perspective, mistaken or misunderstood.
$100 says I end up like Diane Arbus.

There's a delicate love song in this

Thank you.